PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Within a cavern cold and dank exists a broken mind,

Forsaken by the light of God he broods in darkness blind.

What brilliant scales adorn this beast, such armour thick and strong,

But crumbling pieces fall away as seconds tick along.

A mirror knows the mask he shows (his poisonous disguise),

The heart can only bleed so much, eventually it dies.

Upon the creature’s granite lap, a handsome sword now marred,

The craftsmanship was without fault, yet still the steel is scarred.

The umber walls are etched with eyes, their gaze his constant guilt,

The pain bites like a winter frost before whom all must wilt.

And though he never speaks a word in isolated hell,

His fingers bleed from versing tales he lacks the vim to tell.

Grim shadows move across the walls like trailing puffs of smoke,

Their warm embrace surround his dreams (so tight they often choke.)

Licentious crim, contorted-limbed, depraved as beating drums,

He longs to taste the wondrous dawn, but knows she’ll never come.

The rich he loathes, the poor he fears, the wise he chose to shun,

Titanic daemons rise to feast on damnation’s son.

The end, he knows, cannot be far, the waking of his sleep,

But now to live must be his charge, within his cavern keep.

O, Seeing Walls, look on, look on! (with furtive gasps they weep.)

I cannot bear this night

Forever absent light

And love